


Castiel and the Impossible Ordeal of Opening a Jar

by shadowycrispy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowycrispy/pseuds/shadowycrispy
Summary: As happy as his cushy human life with Dean makes him, Cas misses being able to bench press anvils.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 43





	Castiel and the Impossible Ordeal of Opening a Jar

“I brought legions of demons to their knees, I saved the righteous man from hell, I cheated death, and I refuse to the be defeated by a mere vestibule of glass with a vacuum of air,” Castiel snarls into his hands, gritting his teeth and twisting the cap of the jar with all his might. 

Dean knows how difficult it’s been for Cas to adjust to his now permanent human body. He is trying very hard not to laugh at the ex angel of the lord as he struggles to pry open a jar of spaghetti sauce. But it is very funny, and Dean is failing miserably.

“You need help?” Dean offers, extending his hand. He’s pressing his smiling lips together so tight they're white, and his cheeks keep bulging as repressed laughter bubbles in his throat.

Cas glances up from the jar for the first time in 2 minutes to see Dean’s stupid adorable smirk. Stupid cute Dean with his stupid cute smirk, Cas thinks, as he begrudgingly hands the jar to his boyfriend.

Dean pops open the jar with ease. “There ya go,” he says, handing it back to Cas. 

Cas takes the jar back with a roll of his eyes and pours the contents into the pot. “Thank you,” he mutters curtly into the pasta, making it very obvious that he doesn’t want to look at Dean’s stupid (and rude!) hot face. 

“Oh don’t be a baby, you outta be proud!” Dean encourages, moving to stand behind Cas and look over his shoulder. “You made it this far without setting anything on fire. You’re better than Sammy, he’s in his 40s and can’t even make a grilled cheese to save his life. And you at least have the excuse of being older than time and needing to be taught how to use a microwave 5 years ago. Frankly, making pasta and having the only thing trip you up be a jar is a feat worth celebrating. And I know just how.” Dean waltzes over to the cupboard and pulls out a tinfoiled plate from way in the back. As he peals the covering off, the smell overtakes Cas’ senses before Dean can excitedly proclaim, “garlic bread! Made it myself.”

Cas tilts his head, feeling the siren like pull of the smell bring his gaze to the bread. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that,” he remarks. 

Dean gasps. “Oh, you’re in for it! It’s like crack, but you can pretend it’s healthy because it’s got carbs.”

Cas snorts. “You say that about everything.” 

“Because I’m right. I’m gonna go set the table, yell if you need anything.” Dean goes the long way out of the kitchen, giving Cas a kiss on the cheek as he saunters out.

If Cas strains his ears, he can just make out Dean singing to himself and the soft rattle of the forks in his hand clinking against each other as he dances around the dinning room with the silverware. Cas smiles to himself as he mixes the cool sauce into the steaming hot pasta. Sure, if Castiel still had his grace, he'd be able to hear every note and clink as if Dean was right next to him, and he'd know exactly how many molecules of pasta sauce to use to make the dish fit Dean's palate perfectly. But he did not have his grace. He just had himself, and a cooked pot of spaghetti made with his own two hands that could have set it all on fire, but didn't. 

Cas realized soon after becoming human that taking pride in the little things, like not burning dinner, was important. He did not stop another apocalypse. He did not traverse hell, or scour purgatory for ingredients to some god killing spell. He did not even have to bench press an anvil. He simply made dinner, and Cas found peace in that. Although, having peace was a lot easier when your boyfriend could open jars for you.


End file.
